Chase spent the entire day at the hospital with Mrs. Ford.
She talked a lot.
Mostly about studying hard. Taking care of his body. Staying disciplined.
She told him what to watch out for once he went abroad. Reminded him not to rush into relationships. Love distracted people. Love weakened focus. Love ruined futures.
Her son was meant to be an eagle in the sky.
No one should ever be allowed to drag him down.
It wasn't until nine in the evening that she finally let him leave, reluctant and exhausted.
It was already late. Chase had planned to visit the auction house to meet the owner his mother mentioned, but after checking the time, he knew it would have to wait until tomorrow.
One million.
Enough to cover her treatment.
Then what about the three hundred thousand from Wren Mercer?
If he returned it, did that mean the deal between them was void?
With money finally in sight, the pressure in his chest eased for the first time in weeks.
After getting off the metro, Chase stopped at a roadside grill. He ordered some skewers and two bottles of beer.
How long had it been since he'd sat down and eaten without rushing?
"Eating alone?"
A woman's voice came from behind him. His back stiffened instantly.
So soon.
Was she already here for him?
"Relax," the woman said calmly. "I'm just passing by."
Chase let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Still, unease crept in.
A deal was a deal. Outside of that, he didn't want any connection with her.
Every time he saw her, he felt like a prostitute standing on borrowed dignity.
Wren Mercer stood behind him and leaned in slightly, her voice low.
"You smell like disinfectant. You were at the hospital today?"
Chase shifted away instinctively. "Yeah."
Noticing the reflex, Wren smiled faintly.
The more he avoided her, the more she wanted to close the distance.
It was interesting.
Life was dull. A little tension made it bearable.
She took the seat across from him, her eyes flicking over the cheap food on the table.
"I gave you that much money, and this is what you're eating?"
Chase frowned. The way she said it made him feel like something she'd bought.
"This is just a transaction. What I do with the money is none of your business."
There it was again.
That sharp edge.
Wren chuckled. "I just find it strange. You don't look like someone raised on scraps. If you're struggling, you could tell me. I might help."
She wasn't heartless.
He'd saved her once. The money had only been sent under the cover of a deal.
"No," Chase said firmly. Then he looked straight at her.
"I want to end the deal. I can return the three hundred thousand tomorrow."
Wren's expression turned cold in an instant.
"You think you can play me?"
"Don't misunderstand," Chase said quickly. "I needed help before. I don't anymore. If you want compensation, I'll add interest."
Her eyes narrowed.
She hated being calculated around.
Needing her, then discarding her. Too simple. Too arrogant.
"A deal is a deal," she said flatly. "Failing to complete it is a breach. How much are you planning to pay in penalties?"
Chase hesitated, then spoke. "I can add another one hundred thousand."
Buying his dignity back.
Worth it.
Wren laughed softly. "Do I look like I need your money?"
"Then what do you want?" Chase asked, tension creeping into his voice.
"Name it. As long as it's within my ability."
She leaned closer, eyes sharp enough to cut.
"You came to me on your own. You don't get to call it off."
Her voice dropped. "The deal continues. I'll contact you."
She turned and walked away before she lost control.
Inside the car, Wren finally steadied herself.
If he could return the money, did that mean Mrs. Ford no longer needed treatment?
Or did the Ford family still have hidden assets?
She glanced back toward the food stall, then picked up her phone.
"Anya," she said. "Check if the Ford family has any assets that weren't seized."
"Yes."
If anything remained, she would make sure Chase never touched it.
She wanted control.
And she hated losing it.
Back at the table, Chase sat alone, appetite gone.
The food tasted like cardboard.
Fine.
If the deal continued, so be it.
It was just once. After that, there would be no connection.
He finished eating and returned to his basement room.
He'd missed classes today. Exams were coming. The scholarship mattered.
Early the next morning, his phone rang before the alarm could go off.
Half-asleep, Chase answered an unfamiliar number.
"Mr. Ford. This is the Paris Police. What is your relationship to Mrs. Ford?"
Chase jolted upright. "She's my mother. What happened?"
There was a pause on the line.
"Mrs. Ford attempted suicide at the hospital. Resuscitation failed. She passed away earlier this morning. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible."
Suicide.
His mind went blank.
He didn't hear anything else.
By the time he snapped back, Chase was already dressed and running.
Why would she do this?
He had the money. He had everything ready.
It was four in the morning. The streets were empty. No taxis. No ride in sight.
His hands shook so badly he could barely hold his phone.
She didn't want treatment.
She never did.
She had said too much yesterday. Explained too much. Said goodbye without him realizing it.
Why hadn't he stayed?
Just as panic swallowed him whole, a black Mercedes pulled up beside him.
The window rolled down.
"Get in."
"Saint-Louis Hospital. Now. Drive faster."
Chase didn't have the mental space to question why Wren Mercer was here.
His mind was filled with only one name.
Mrs. Ford.
Seeing how close Chase was to breaking, something flickered in Wren's eyes. Pity. Or maybe something more complicated. Even she didn't recognize it.
The hospital was far. The car tore through empty streets, nearly forty minutes before they arrived.
Before the vehicle had fully stopped, Chase shoved the door open and staggered out.
To protect its reputation, the hospital had sealed off the news of the suicide. Reporting it to the police was their way of covering themselves first, letting official conclusions absolve them of responsibility.
In the corridor, a hospital bed lay still beneath a white sheet.
Chase's legs gave out.
"Mr. Ford… please accept our condolences."
The words meant nothing. His ears rang. His mind went numb.
With shaking hands, he pulled back the sheet.
His mother's face was pale. Still. Empty of breath.
Tears spilled instantly.
"Mom… what were you thinking?" he choked. "We had the money. You were going to be treated. Why would you leave me like this?"
He couldn't understand it.
Was his future really worth more than her life?
Chase collapsed to the floor, clutching her cold hand. Guilt flooded him until it was all he could feel.
He didn't want a future. He didn't want to go abroad.
He just wanted her alive.
The air in the corridor was suffocating. The attending physician hesitated, then handed him a folded letter. Police officers were present. The staff had dealt with scenes like this before.
"Please… read this. It's a note your mother left."
Chase barely heard him. He snatched the paper and unfolded it, tears blurring the words.
This was her final message.
**"Chase, don't be sad.
Mom is finally free. I'm going to find your father.
I believe you're strong. Even without us, you'll live well.
You are your father's and my pride.
My death has nothing to do with the hospital.
The doctors and nurses were kind to me. Please don't blame them.
Always remember gratitude.
My son, you are the best.
Live happily. Your father and I will be watching over you.
Keep going."**
Wren stood quietly to the side, watching him break down.
She wasn't someone easily moved. But standing there, something tight and unfamiliar pressed against her chest.
Mrs. Ford's choice made sense.
The family had fallen. She was gravely ill. She didn't want to be a burden.
A mother knew her child better than anyone. How could she not see how hard Chase had been pushing himself?
After handling the formalities, Chase couldn't remember how he left the hospital.
Morning had come.
He wandered the streets like a ghost, watching people pass by, tears filling his eyes again.
He had no home now.
Wren followed behind in her car, expression dark.
"Get in. I'll take you back."
Chase shook his head numbly. "Go. I want to be alone."
Wren drove off.
Then she picked up her phone.
"Anya. Bring Chase back. No matter how."
"Yes."
He had lost both parents in less than two months. She wasn't sure he could survive that weight.
And the deal wasn't finished.
She wouldn't let him die.
When Chase reached the bridge over the Seine, his feet stopped on their own.
He stared at the calm water below, unmoving.
He didn't know what he was thinking.
He wanted to cry. To scream. To tear something apart.
But nothing came out.
It felt like his chest was stuffed with something heavy and wet, pressing until he couldn't breathe.
People slowed to watch. Some whispered. Someone quietly called the police.
Jumping from this bridge wasn't unheard of.
Chase noticed none of it.
From the crowd, a pair of sharp eyes locked onto him.
Anya.
Wren's enforcer. The one who had beaten off the creditors that night.
This was the opportunity.
Anya stepped forward.
Sensing movement, Chase turned slightly.
"Y—"
Before the word could form, Anya struck the side of his neck.
Everything went black.
Back at Résidence Montmartre, Wren finally exhaled.
"Where did you get him?" she asked.
Anya laid Chase on the bed. "The bridge. He was going to jump."
Wren nodded. Knocking out someone suicidal didn't require explanations.
"Leave."
"Yes."
Wren moved closer. Chase's eyes were red, swollen.
She took a warm towel and gently laid it over them.
When Chase drifted awake again, night had fully fallen.
The room was dark. Only moonlight filtered in through the window.
He couldn't see much, but he knew instantly this wasn't his basement room.
Memory rushed back.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the living room.
Wren sat cross-legged on the sofa, eyes closed.
Chase stopped in front of her.
After a long silence, his voice finally broke.
"Why did you bring me here?"
Wren opened her eyes, calm and cold.
"If I hadn't, would you have jumped?" she said flatly.
"Don't forget — our deal isn't finished yet. I don't make losing trades."